Favors
by oh-ohmy-oohhkay
Summary: Penguin needs a favor from Jim. Fem!Jim post s1 and maniax! aren't a thing. Gobblepot. may eventually change T to M.
1. Prologue

Things were finally about to change. Captain Barnes and Detective Gordon found new, uncorrupted cadets and made a Strike Force. Gordon finally had the reinforcements to fix Gotham into the city she once knew, a long time ago.

But that was too good to be true, huh?

She was a soldier and a cop. One of the only cops willing to do the right thing almost every time. Almost...

Gordon never did what she told if she disagreed with it. Not even when her own partner threatened to shoot her at the end of the harbour if she didn't kill Cobblepot. Cobblepot was a pitiful man from the first time they met. She was to kill him for being a snitch while he hobbled down the dock, begging for his life. Well, she was more dragging him down the dock but she noticed the limp leg easily enough.

"Please, Detective, please don't kill me! Y-you're Jim Gordon, the only uncorrupted man in Gotham! N-not to say only men can-"

"Shut up," she ordered through gritted teeth, clicking the gun at the back of his head. She took a deep breath. "Don't ever come back to Gotham." Gordon shot the gun beside his head and Cobblepot flopped into the bay.

She tried to swallow the frog in her throat while walking back towards Bullock, but just couldn't muster any words for him. She stared at the concrete beneath her shiny mary-janes. Bullock grabbed Gordon's shoulder gently, making her look him in the eye.

"It'll get better from here. Promise." It was one of the first times he treated her like a colleague, and not an annoying rookie. Who would think that killing a man rewarded kindness from cops?

Gordon never wanted to kill as a detective, already feeling guilty about Pepper. Yes, Bullock shot him to protect her, but he was innocent... of the Wayne Murders at least. Gordon didn't kill him though. She couldn't even pretend she did anymore, that night at Barbara's apartment.

"Jim?," Barbara turned as she opened the door, revealing the strange little man. A smile crept across his face at the sight of her.

"Jamey, old friend."

It was easy to throw him against the brick wall of the apartment building, but not to persuade him to leave. "Gotham is my home, Jim," he pleaded with her. She released the grip on his suit, backing away and rubbing her face to clear her head.

"What do you want from me?," she aimed for keeping her anger, but it came out as exhaustion.

He stepped away from the wall towards her, "I want you to trust me. I can help you and be a valuable friend to you." Cobblepot rested his hand on her shoulder, to which she slapped off immediately. He looked hurt at first, and then that unnerving smile appeared again. "I'll just have to prove to you I'm on your side."

If she had known all that he had down to get back in Gotham, that he was playing all the mob bosses of Gotham so he could take all their place as "King," what would she have done? What could she have done?

"I didn't kill Cobblepot, Harvey," she said to him desperately.

"Of course you didn't, Jim," he winked conspiratorially. She stared at him with wide eyes until he snapped. "YOU DIDN'T KILL COBBLEPOT?," he shouted in the bull-pin.

"Literally what I said, Harv," she sassed despite her cuffed hands behind her back.

"Hello, GCPD!," he bursted into the police station. He turned to Montoya and Allen, who held Gordon tightly. "I'm alive," he laughed with a wave, "so why don't you let my friend Jim go?" Gordon's head dropped to her chest, letting out an exasperated sigh. Her dirty blonde waves shielded her from the looks everyone was giving her.

"Fuck," she mumbled under breath.

Yeah, she didn't kill Cobblepot, but that was the right thing to do. In fact, some perks come along with him starting the whole war with Maroni and Falcone and throwing Fish into the bay. He was top dog now, and that meant she got favors in order to investigate into the underlying crime world of Gotham. Gordon always tried to tread lightly on Cobblepot's friendliness, and even promised a favor in return once, until she completely snapped at him when she was hunting down the Ogre. Cobblepot clearly did not like that, but Gordon didn't have time to apologize.

Especially not after the next favor he cashed in.

"YOU OWE ME, JIM," Cobblepot shouted hysterically while the cuff on his wrist jingled loudly on the radiator. "YOU HAVE TO TAKE US WITH YOU."

"And we are in your custody now," Gilzean added. Cobblepot nodded furiously.

"Shit," she muttered after helping Falcone off the old hospital bed. After that the adrenaline took over and the next thing she knew she dropped two guns on the hospital lobby floor and looked up to see Bullock awestruck.

"We gotta go," Bullock said softly.

"I know, but Harv, we're bringing Penguin and Gilzean too."

" _WHAT?"_

Gordon doesn't like to think that Cobblepot saved her life either. She likes to pretend the whole "showdown" didn't happen. But it did. And Cobblepot, with his strangely perceptive ways, started a fight between Maroni and Mooney, and Mooney actually shot him in the head. Gordon never appreciated the nickname "babes" either, but she'd never shoot a man for it.

When she was seconds from cutting Cobblepot free, he managed by himself and booked it. That was their plan too, until Selina caught them. Again. Tied up in the same way. Then before anything "bad" actually happened, Cobblepot limped in with a fucking _machine_ gun.

Then suddenly, because of that pig-headed Loeb, she was a uni again, directing traffic. And then got fired. She had a choice after that. She could move to a different and better city, like how Lee wanted, or find a different and safe job, like how Harvey did. But she was a cop, a soldier, a headstrong fighter, she couldn't just leave her home or be something she's not because of some low-life Commissioner that doesn't even show his face in the GCPD Department, let alone work for justice. No, she was going to stay and she was going to be a cop again.

There was only one man for the job, and she hated that thought.

"Jim, how lovely it is to see you," Cobblepot greeted warmly, dismissing everyone except Selina from the long table.

She took a deep breath, "I need a favor." He regarded her for a moment, then smiled again.

"You wish to be reinstated in the GCPD, I know, but how does Lee feel about that?," she wasn't even going to ask.

"Can you do it or not?," she asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course, of course. Persuasion a funny thing...," he looked her up and down again with a quizzical countenance. He finally looked back into her blue eyes. "I need your help too, Jim."

She denied the request determinedly and went to her partner for comfort. "Screw the Penguin. I'm not doing his dirty work."

"That's the spirit, Jim. Don't let anyone boss you around."

"Yeah... thanks, Harv."

And then she remembered the start of all of this and the promise she made to a broken and shell-shocked boy who had lost his family. She went to Bruce and apologized, but told him about her predicament. Bruce snapped unexpectedly and told her that one bad thing shouldn't stop her from doing a life of good. Gordon took the advice.

Unfortunately she killed a man in the process and Cobblepot took care of it, promising everything was handled.

Gordon didn't go to Cobblepot for anymore favors after that. Now she wouldn't dream of it with Captain Barnes putting so much trust in her. She has her own cadet force, and they even started calling her "mom," which is strange but somehow endearing.

She avoided his nightclub all together, not even driving down that street in slight paranoia. She was going to start anew.

There was a knock on the front door.

"Got it," Lee called from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron to grip the doorknob correctly. She opened the door and turned slightly to a curious detective. "Jim?," she asked Gordon as she looked at the unexpected guest.

"Jamey, old friend," he greeted in the same way he always does, with that devious grin.

* * *

AN: Just so you know I wrote this entire thing today. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter One

She wanted to scream. She didn't do anything wrong, anything to deserve _this_... Whatever this was.

"What do you want?," she asked him, arms crossed and a scowl creasing her face. He laughed awkwardly.

"May I... come in?," he turned to Lee. Lee stepped aside and started pulling the door open, but Jim grabbed it and pulled it back to its original spot..

"I don't think so, Cobblepot," she gave him a sardonic smile. His face fell and those green eyes looked so hurt. "Not without stating your business," she mumbled against her own will.

He bounced back immediately, "Of course, of course. I just need one, easy, quick, little favor from you and-" Jim was about an inch away from slamming the door shut but Cobblepot threw himself against the door, sticking his good foot through. "Can w-we talk?," he asked quietly, blinking those big green eyes at her. She paused for a moment, holding the door in place. "Y-you did say you'd let me in after 'stating my business'?," he mentioned, knowing how she _always_ kept her word. Jim sighed, wanting to slam her head into the adjacent wall. She pulled the door open.

Jim smiled tiredly at Lee and gestured to The Penguin, "Lee, this is-"

"Dr. Thompkins, at last! I've heard a lot about you. People usually call me The Penguin, but you may call me Oswald," he extended a hand towards Lee and she took it gladly.

"Please, Lee," she said sweetly.

"Lee," he corrected himself softly, "so I heard that you used to work at Arkham Asylum. What a party that must've been."

"Oh, yeah. A lovely place," she joked back. "It's actually where Jim and I met."

"Ah, yes, when she was demoted to a security guard by that pesky Loeb," he turned to Jim. "But we took care of him easy enough." He _winked_ at her.

"Cut to the chase, Cobblepot," Jim said sternly, hands on her hips and another a cold stare on her visage.

"Of course, of course," he said again. He shifted his weight to his right leg and winced. Lee instinctively put out her hands to spot him.

"Are you alright?," Lee cooed, inching closer in case he did fall.

"Who, me?," he feigned sweet ignorance. "Oh, yes, just this awful leg of mine. I've been lame since I was a boy. Still hurts just as much," he emphasized his words by rubbing his thigh roughly.

"Oh, come sit down, won't you? Would you like anything, water, coffee, cocoa?," Lee gently guided him into the kitchen and left Jim standing in front of the door, completely dumbfounded. The Penguin gasped lightly.

"I haven't had cocoa in a long time," he reminisced with a chuckle.

"I'll put the kettle on," she decided as she lead him to a chair. Cobblepot plopped on the chair gratefully, a smug smile splitting his face as he turned to Jim. Jim was still in front of the door, stock still as she watched the criminal make light conversation with her roommate. Lee _knew_ who Cobblepot was, knew what he done, knew the kind of a person he was, and she welcomed him into their home. Jim planned to have a little talk with her roommate later.

Jim forced herself to stroll into the kitchen and sit next to Cobblepot. She gave him a stony, expectant look. He stared back for a moment, his jocund attitude faltering. He cleared his throat.

"Jim, do you know what hubris is?," he smiled at his inside joke with himself.

"Plan on giving me a Shakespeare lesson?," she sassed. The most annoying thing that was a part of her job as a detective was the interrogation process. Suspects always digressed. The upside was she could be as rude as she liked and no one would bat an eye. Cobblepot didn't appreciate her satire, his smile pressed into a thin line.

"Hubris," he started again, "is excessive pride."

"You said something you shouldn't have, huh?," she guessed incontinently. Judging by the way his nostrils flared, she was correct.

"I did, yes," he confirmed with gritted teeth. "And long story short, I need a date for a little get-together this Saturday." The slight panic in her gut betrayed Jim, her eyes widening for a moment before diffusing herself.

"No problem, Mr. Cobblepot," she said simply, walking behind the counter to help Lee with cutting the peppers. "But I'm sure you don't need my help for that. I'm sure one of your many... workers, shall I say, would be flattered at the offer."

He sighed heavily. "Detective, would you do me the honor-," he stood up and hobbled over to her so they were face to face, "-of accompanying me to the Annual Christmas Party, as my _pretend_ date so I can silence the doubt against me?" Lee passed out the cocoa while the staredown was happening and continued stirring the pot.

"Aren't you the King of Gotham now?," Jim asked while absentmindedly stirring her cocoa. Some of his edge dissolved at that, his pride making his chest swell.

"Indeed, I am."

"Then can't you bring any girl?," her voice was slightly muffled by her aggravation.

"That's why I'm here," he said in a mock-gleeful tone. The spoon slipped from her hand and clinked loudly in the bright red mug. She looked up slowly, trying to find the joke in his countenance. There was none.

"Do you mean to say... that you told all your little buddies that you'd bring me? Like, as your _date_?"

"So the title 'detective' isn't just flattery," he teased. At her fiery glare he reiterated, "Yes, I told them I'd bring specifically _you_ because you represent the good side of Gotham. In order to claim myself as King, I need to 'rule all of it.' And you're my-"

"Got it, thanks," she stopped him before he said anything too creepy. " _Rule all of it_ " ran a shiver up her spine. She turned back to her cocoa. He let out a deep suspiration.

"Jim, I don't think you understand the importance of this. If you do not at least make an appearance, I won't be taken seriously as the Boss and-"

"That _really_ doesn't sound like my problem," Jim interjected, testing out the temperature of her hot cocoa.

"It _will_ be, when I can't control all those criminals you despise and Gotham is thrown into utter chaos."

"Gotham _is_ utter chaos and has been since the day I let you go." His lips were a thin line again and he decided to stir his cocoa as well.

"I'm trying to fix it," he argued softly, staring at his marshmallows disintegrate. "But I need your help. Neither of us advance without the other's help, you know that by now, so why is this any different?" Those green doe eyes were strangely full of... hope. He was a person, with hopes, dreams, ambitions, and maybe even... desires.

Another shiver racked her body. Jim refused to see the humanity in him, her resolve solidifying. He did _not_ care. About _anything_. Not Gotham, not his peers, and certainly not Jim.

"You don't want to _fix_ Gotham, Penguin. I know you by now. You just want to rule the world, to get back at those who've hurt you. Well, I'm not gonna be an asset to your revenge. Not anymore." Jim stood tall, looking him in the eye, until he screwed his eyes shut. After a few moments, he rubbed his temple roughly.

"Just an hour, Jim," he had a strange exasperation in his voice. "Just an hour of your time to make things run a little smoother," he slammed his hand against the counter, scaring Lee and making Jim jump only a little. He stared at her, waiting until his own breathing slowed to speak again. "Eight o'clock. My club. Formal wear." Then he smiled, "In case you change your mind." He grabbed his royal purple mug and downed the entirety of his still-hot cocoa. He hummed while liking off his chocolate mustache. "It was delicious, Lee, thank you," he gave her his hand to shake and she took it awkwardly.

"It was nice to finally meet you," he told her pleasantly.

"You as well," Lee then pushed herself against the counter to let him pass. He limped out of the apartment without a backward glance. As soon as the door shut, Jim collapsed against the counter.

"What the hell," she grumbled to no one in particular.

"He seems nice," Lee remarked sweetly. Jim actually chuckled at that.

"A complete sweetheart." Lee snorted as she brought her lime green mug to her lips. "I cannot believe what just happened," Jim groaned.

"Are you gonna go?"

"What?," she didn't mean to snap but, "Why would I?" Lee shrugged.

"It could be fun. You know, talking shit to a bunch of criminals and they can't touch you 'cause Oswald would bet their ass," she took another sip of cocoa.

"First of all, I wouldn't 'talk shit' because that'd make my job just that much more hell, and second of all, it's Penguin."

"Well, he introduced himself as Oswald sooo-"

"If you like him so much, why don't _you_ go?," Jim twirled her finger in front of Lee's face mockingly. Lee hummed, thinking it over. She walked away without another word. "Where do you think you're going?," Jim called after her.

"This is my apartment, ya know. I can go wherever I like." The sound of an opening marker echoed throughout said apartment. Jim all but stomped after Lee, finding her writing on the calendar with a black permanent marker. "There," she said as she capped the marker stepping back to let Jim see. On Saturday, December 15, black letters sang " _8 at Oswald's._ " Jim turned her glare from the calendar to Lee.

"Are you serious right now?"

Lee gasped suddenly, "Since it's a Christmas party, do you think he'd be fine with me wearing an ugly sweater over my dress?" She smirked at Jim's exasperation. "'It's just an hour of your time'," she reminded.

"Whose side are you on?"

"The fun one," she giggled. "Jim, c'mon. He just needs a date; you don't have to marry him."

"He's a criminal, Lee!," she shouted, waving her arms around, "What if it's an elaborate scheme to murder me or get blackmail on me? That calumnious rat is out to get me!"

"Woah, there, Girlfriend." Lee put her hands up like Jim was about to tackle her. "Doesn't he already have blackmail on you?"

Jim gaped at Lee, utterly outraged. "I-," she stopped herself, trying to find what she wanted to say. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't know what- Jim, you killed a man for Oswald."

"Don't say it like that! It was just business; just to get my job back. Sometimes you have to fight dirty in order to do what's right."

"Ri-ight, and where'd ya hear that from?" A heavy silence hung in the air.

"Bruce Way-"

"Bruce Wayne. The fourteen year old gave you advice, and you took it."

"He's very wise for his age, okay? He's been through a lot," she defended.

"Jim," Lee began, ticking off her fingers, "He just lost his parents, so he is not mentally okay. He has no one for guidance except for a ex-military butler that lets him do whatever he wants, including blowing up his basement."

"He- what?"

"That's not important," Lee dismissed with a wave of her hand. "The point is you need this relationship to survive. It's too late to back out."

"It's never too late to back out," Jim stepped closer to Lee, looking her roommate in the eye. "One bad thing does not define me."

Lee sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose briefly. "That's not what I'm saying." She held her friend's gaze. "You can be nice, Jim. This is all this is. Just be nice to a sad, pathetic man for one evening, and you can stay on his good side for a while. You know, keep your friends close, enemies closer?"

Jim began seeing the reasoning in Lee's argument, and she hated it. She rubbed her face roughly. "Lee, I can't... I can't do this the rest of my life. The rest of my career. This isn't the way to fix Gotham."

"I know, Jim. I don't honestly like the idea of you spending time with him either, but... do you really want him against you?"

Jim sighed and rested her head on Lee's shoulder, "No." Lee wrapped her arms around Jim gently, resting her own cheek on the other's blonde waves.

"Get him drunk," the doctor suggested. Jim giggled. "No, seriously. He probably can't handle alcohol and he'll pass out and I'll be outside waiting to pick you up."

Jim leaned back and gave her a true smile. "Just get ready for me to bitch about the whole thing, okay?"

"Oh, I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

AN: I probably got Lee's character all wrong but eh whatevs. I actually haven't watched the show in a while and I'm still only on like season 2 episode 5? Idk. Hope u like!


	3. Chapter Two

The club's door opened, letting in a wet chill throughout the bar. Oswald silently hoped it would cool his lukewarm champagne.

"He-he-hey! What's goin on, Gabe?," one of the twins erupted obnoxiously.

"I'm doin, great, Lugie. How you been?"

"We've been waitin for this all day," the other one snarked out. Oswald stood swiftly and made his way to the twins. "There he is!," the shorter one pointed at Oswald then kneeled on the ground. The other one looked at his brother and quickly copied him, both bowing.

"Oh, your highness, we are not worthy of your presence!," his voice was muffled, as his face was in the carpet.

"Or your most fruitful advice."

"Or your supposed Dame."

"Get. Up," Oswald growled through gritted teeth. He recomposed himself, "if you two can't act like adults for one evening, I'll tell Ms. Gordon to stay home."

"Aw-w," they whined in unison and got up. They brushed each other off.

"C'mon, Boss, you knows we were just foolin'," Mario gave him an apologetic smile.

"Yeah, gettin' inta character," Luigi mirrored his brother. Despite being in their twenties, they looked, and acted, like little boys. Oswald sighed.

"I know you're both excited, but you need to be poise and deceiving. She's a detective after all. If she has _any_ doubt throughout the evening concerning our intentions, there will be hell to pay," Oswald smiled menacingly to drive his point home.

"Of course, of course," they patted each other on the back and waved off Oswald's worry.

"Is she even comin'?," Luigi asked out of genuine curiosity. Oswald gave him a blank stare, then he smiled again.

"I sure hope so," he whispered, mock-conspiratorially. He turned back to his champagne and downed the rest of it.

Mario smacked the back of his brother's head with a mumbled, "imbecile."

"OW, Mari!"

"Would you pipe down?," Mario hushed.

"Why'd ya hit me?"

"Cause you're bein' an imbecile."

"What's that?"

"What you are!"

" _Gentlemen_ ," Oswald's voice nearly cracked, his nerves already fried. Without turning around, as he knew they were listening now, he took an audible breath. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get the girls? Spice up the place while you're at it." There was solid beat of silence.

"Like, decorate, Boss?" It took a moment for the question to sink in. "Bo-?"

" _Yes_ ," he hissed.

"Right away, sir," and they finally went away. Oswald collapsed back into his chair, holding his thigh securely. He saw stars with the pain. Mother always said to avoid stress, _that's why you're always in pain, my little babushka._

He glared at the specially designed clock on the wall: black trim, purple umbrella, roman numerals. He sighed in self-pity. _She's not coming._

He'd never say his doubts aloud. That gave the universe ideas, and with it, power over him. Oswald demanded control, always has, always will. Except, he didn't have control over Jim. He longed to have control over her, her feelings, heart, mind, body... But that would never happen. He knew the right thing was to let her go, but she was too intriguing. Eye-catching, infuriating, beautiful, _good_. The ying to his yang, and she hated him.

And he stupidly tried. He would try and try again to bring their connection into the light, to warm the cold threads lacing them together, and she would have a disgusted look on her face. Never a smile.

Then she would give in. It was reluctant, always reluctant, but she would. A microscopic victory because what he was selling was too sweet to miss. He crawled under her skin the very first day, and she couldn't remove him. To be fair, he wasn't a parasite. They've saved and helped each other countless times. Why can't she see that he always meant to help? That he was always there for her? Always would be...

Abrupt knocking shook Oswald from his thoughts. He waited for one of his incompetent henchmen to open the door. The knocking continued.

"Oh, for the love of-," he growled softly and pushed himself out of the chair again. He yelled as he hobbled towards the door, "What do I pay you all for?" He pulled open the door aggressively, revealing blue eyes and a form-fitting green dress. Oswald stared at the woman dumbly. Then it clicked.

"You did say it was formal, right?," she asked, pulling her white parka tighter over her chest.

"I... I did, yes," he continued ogling her, then snapped his gaze up to her face again. "Y-you must be freezing," he stepped back, nearly tripping, and opened the door further. She entered the doorway timidly, her heels clicking on the dark floor. "Here, let me...," his hands hovered over her shoulders, just brushing the soft white fur. She released her death grip and he slipped it off with the utmost care, hanging it on the adjacent rack.

The dress was _strapless_. It shimmered faintly, flowing as she walked into the club. The few curls that abandoned the flower of hair swayed as she turned back to him.

"Nice party," her voice was too soft for the sarcasm to sting. Oswald smiled.

"The club doesn't usually open until eleven. And the people I invite are usually ' _fashionably_ ' late anyway. You, my dear Jim," he walked closer to her, only half a foot apart, "Always surprise me." Jim smirked slightly.

"You didn't think I'd come." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Like I said," Oswald snaked his hands to her hips and pulled her closer, keeping the eye contact, "unpredictable." Jim gasped, and smacked him across the face with her handbag. He let her go and she stumbled back in her heels, grabbing onto the bar to steady herself.

Oswald touched his reddening cheek. His lips were pressed into a thin line for a moment, then he smiled.

"And _that_ is why," he chuckled. "I needed you to come early." Jim stayed against the bar, trying to decipher his meaning. He limped over to her calmly and put both hands on either side of her. "You do understand what I asked when I invited you, yes?"

"A... a date."

"A _believable_ date." When he received no further reply, he growled. "You have to at least act like you like me. How would they believe me if you appear repulsed by my very existence?" Jim's eyes widened at the demand.

"I'm not repulsed by you," she argued softly. "You just scared me is all. I've been harassed more times than I'd care to admit," Jim said the last bit to herself, but he still heard it. A hot, liquid rage set fire to Oswald's veins. Disgusting vermin that call themselves 'men,' sexual harassing his Jim Gordon? The very idea was enough to make him wish to personally gut every single one of them. "Sorry I hit you."

"Hm?," he couldn't help the sadistic glint in his eye as he quietly imagined killing those awful cretins and Jim being eternally grateful and throwing herself at Oswald and-

"Your cheek- it's still pretty red. Does it hurt?" Oswald was still in his little fantasy when he felt soft fingers brush against his warmer-than-normal cheek. He then became acutely aware of the proximity of himself and the detective.

"Hello," he almost squeaked. Jim smiled.

"Hi."

"You smell like strawberries," he blurted. He was about to slap his own face for that slip-up, but her smile never faltered.

"Thanks." She took another step towards him, her hand still grazing his assaulted cheek.

"Detective-"

"Awww," a multitude of voices cooed. Jim took a huge step back and self-consciously straightened her dress. Oswald turned around, studying his little minions carefully. Selina and Ivy were just like the twins, but they had the excuse of being teenagers. Goofy grins were across all four faces. Oswald gave them a venomous smile.

"I suggest you start decorating before I get _impatient_ ," he enunciated sharply. The four of them cleared their faces of mirth and grabbed streamers, bows, and whatever else they found in the over-sized storage bins. The twins hoisted the banner across the bar.

"'Happy Holidays' Bash'?" Jim smirked at the cheesy name. Oswald came up behind her, barely grazing her backside.

"I assure you it's officially called 'The Annual Christmas Party'," he whispered, stepping closer. Jim tensed up but let his arms snake around her waist again. He held her close, rocking back and forth slightly. "Do you understand my intentions now?," he cooed. He released her suddenly and stepped back. "We'll be dance partners this evening. I don't expect anything else from you," he assured her and turned towards the girls on the stage. "Who taught you how to tie a bow?!," he shouted as he limped towards them.

* * *

AN: okay so this is the badly edited and extremely shortened version. Like I cut this in half, no joke. In the original I made Jim too whiny and frigid. I wanted to fix that. basically she likes Ozzy, but only when no one's around. seem legit? Also Oswald reaaaally wants Jim but hates making her uncomfortable. You'll see how he's a gentleman soon enough. toodles


	4. Chapter Three

Jim found herself standing next to the bar again, rubbing the goose flesh off her arms. Cobblepot was... strangely warm. The clicking of tongues caught her attention. She turned to one of the twins approaching her, the other one still crouched on the bar.

"So, you're the supposed dame," the young man snided smugly. His brother shot a panicked look at the back of his head.

"Dame? What decade are you from?," Jim sassed back. He wooed at the comeback, a smirk creasing his boyish features.

"You believe this chick, Luigi?," he finally turned to his brother, catching the look. "The hell's wrong with you?" The other one hopped off the bar and shuffled closely to his brother.

"What are you doing, bro? That's Jim freaking Gordon!," the panicked boy whispered loudly to his shorter twin.

"Would you relax? You're gonna blow our cover."

"You're gonna blow our whole lives if you piss 'er off!"

"I'm doin' my job," the shorter one pointed his thumb at himself aggressively, annoyed at his brother's worriness. "What are _you_ doin'?"

"An excellent question," Selina popped up next to them, making them both jump about a foot to the side. She turned to Jim with a small smile. "Do you know these idiots, Jim?" Jim looked them over again. They looked like a couple of those boys from the Newsies: brown vests over worn out flannel, all tucked into slacks, but the shiniest brown shoes. All they were missing was the gray caps.

"Should I?," she asked Selina, arching an eyebrow.

"What, you don't know a Maroni when ya see 'im?," the shorter one outraged.

"Maroni...?," Jim's eyes widened in realization. There were _more_ of them?

"There it is," Luigi said happily, forgetting his stress at the mention of his family tree.

"Like... _Sal_ Maroni?," Jim asked, studying the boys' reactions.

"Ohhh, yeah," the twins confirmed in unison.

"Yeah, good ol' Cousin Sal," Luigi reminisced.

"Actually, he was kind of an ass," Mario commented. They both shrugged.

"So...," the three turned back to Jim, "you're not, like, swearing revenge on Cobblepot- I mean, Penguin- for your cousin's death?" She really didn't want anyone knowing of her past connections to the criminal underbelly, especially the history she had with Oswald... her Cobblepot.

"Nah-h," they said nasally, waving her question off. Jim hummed in contemplation. She stepped forward.

"Who are you then?"

"Who, me?," they said at the same time. Again.

"I am Mario Maroni, sounds nice donnit?," he extended his hand towards her. She took it firmly, which surprised him.

"I'm Luigi. Maroni. Duh," he stepped forward and gave her both his hands, holding her hand gently. His slick black hair fell to the side, but he quickly fixed it.

"And are you boys goons of The Penguin?," Jim asked, feigning disinterest. How'd she know it was a set-up? She knew this was some illusion, some plot point that Cobblepot was using to keep Jim wrapped around her finger, or to somehow further advance his position of power. Yet, she couldn't help but feel disappointed.

"Goons? Lady, we ain't goons to nobody," Mario told her sternly.

"Yeah, we're more like... uh... helpers?," Luigi turned to his brother for assistance.

"Henchmen," he huffed.

"Henchmen! I knew that."

"Sure ya did, kid." The boys started a bit of a quibble after that and neither girl was listening anymore. Jim stood closer to Selina, careful not to interrupt the boys.

"Are these the 'colleagues' your boss was worried about impressing?" Jim tried not to be so sarcastic, but at this point anyone would have lost it.

"Um," Selina started, her voice raising an octave. "Kinda?"

"Cobblepot couldn't get good actors, huh?," Jim guessed smugly.

"Well, Boss wanted to, uh, ' _practice_ ' first. He usually raises the stakes for the twins so they'll take a job seriously." Selina stepped closer to Jim in order to be next to her ear. "They're not so smart." When Selina stepped back, Jim's brow creased.

"Who does he want to 'practice' for?"

"Oh, Selina, Sweetheart," a voice sang behind Jim, only a foot away. Jim jumped and turned around to face him, accidentally catching all attention. She wanted to explain herself but thought better of it. Oswald shook his head to dismiss Jim's twirl and turned back to Selina. "I see you _have_ those streamers, Cat, but I don't see any of them up. Why is that?," he asked with that double-sided smile.

Selina lowered her head, "Sorry, Boss." She took a chair, dragged it to the doorway, and gracefully climbed onto it. Oswald turned back to Jim.

"Kids. What can you do?," he chuckled at his own words. Jim hummed.

"But they seem to like you at least. Rather impressive for someone like you." His lips pressed together again. Jim felt a pang of guilt. "I meant a criminal." When confusion took over the annoyance on his face, Jim rolled her eyes. "Forget I said anything. What time is it?"

"It's-," Luigi squinted at the clock. "4:40." It was silent in the club; even the girls stopped and looked at the young man. Luigi stopped squinting and looked at his boss as Cobblepot pinched the bridge of his long nose.

"8:20. It's 8:20," Oswald grumbled. Jim couldn't help but smile at his exasperation.

"No Maroni is smart, huh?," Jim teased only loud enough for Oswald to hear.

"Unfortunately, not all. Some of them... carry the rest, so to speak," he replied just as softly. He forced a reassuring smile. "But you'll see soon enough, Detective," his voice was a strange mixture of worry and fondness. A strange, warm electricity flooded through her chest.

Something inside of Jim told her, "There's no way it'll be just an hour." If there were more Maronis, and Oswald was worried about them, Jim had to stay. It wasn't about impressing Penguin's colleagues anymore; it was about knowing the possible threats of Gotham. She wasn't sure the thrill in her veins was because of that, or because of those captivating green eyes painted on her memory. Or the soft skin of his cheek, or strangely charismatic smile, or the surprisingly strong grip on her-

Oh.

Oh, no.

* * *

AN: so I recently got to season 2 episode 8 (yes I KNOW i'm behind, no need to rub it in) and I finally got some hardcore proof of Gobblepot. That inspired the 'new' feelings Jim has for Oswald.

Selina calls Penguin Jim's "little friend"

When Jim and Oswald are at gun point, Jim USES HIS FIRST NAME and LITERALLY SAYS "I don't wanna shoot you" like yeah because YOU LOVE HIM JESUS. Like Jim could've ended him right then and there, but he DIDN'T. like, hug ur bf already man he needs it.

also Oswald just steals his freaking car and Jim is like "damn."

thanks for reading! have good holidays. I'm excited for shamrock shakes tbh. ok ok bye.


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